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Their first kiss was when they were children.
Back then, Felix and Sylvain were the pinnacle of innocence. Sylvain watched Glenn give Felix a brotherly kiss on the top of the head and thought, “I want to kiss Felix too!” So he asked.
“Hey, Felix. Can I kiss you?”
Felix paused mid sword swing to look at Sylvain, confused. “Kiss?”
Sylvain nodded a heartbeat later. Too late to take it back now. “Like Glenn does,” he clarified in an attempt to smooth this over.
Felix dropped his arms, sword hanging between his legs. He pursed his lips in thought, and then, staring down at the snow with an unreadable expression, shrugged and said, “Sure.”
Wow. That was easier than Sylvain expected. Shyly, he stepped closer to Felix, bent down, and leaned in. It was just a peck on the cheek, a light touch of lips on skin, like their mothers would do. A small, comforting gesture. But Sylvain felt his face warm anyways as he stood and took half a step back.
“Was that…okay?”
Sylvain watched Felix carefully. His best friend hadn’t moved an inch and his eyes were still fixed on the ground, but his ears had gone red at the tips. Must be the cold, Sylvain thought.
“Yeah, that was fine,” Felix replied, shaking off his stupor. He studied the forest floor for another second before glancing up in Sylvain’s direction. His eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness. Oh no. Sylvain had made Felix uncomfortable. What was he thinking? This was stupid, he was stupid. He never should have even considered-
But before Sylvain could completely self-destruct, Felix suddenly grabbed Sylvain’s scarf and tugged. Caught off guard, Sylvain nearly fell over, but managed to find his balance just as Felix pressed his lips to Sylvain’s forehead.
Sylvain might have squeaked. He’s not sure because his mind blanked and all he could think about was the warmth of the kiss, and the way that warmth spread throughout his body like a warm balm shielding him from the cold wind.
Felix pulled back and let out a satisfied exhale. He seemed proud of himself, lips now upturned in a half smile, half smirk and cheeks a rosy red.
“How was that?” he grinned. He was still holding onto Sylvain’s scarf, and he was still close enough for Sylvain to bend down and…
“Good,” Sylvain said quickly, returning Felix’s smile.
“It kinda tickled,” Felix giggled. He let go of the scarf to grab Sylvain’s hand, and kissed the bit of skin between his mitten and sleeve.
“Yeah, it does,” Sylvain muffled his laugh with his free hand, hiding his reddening cheeks.
The last time they kissed in their pure, childlike way, Sylvain got a little bold. He kissed Felix near the corner of the mouth, quick and chaste, like normal. But it felt different. Like he had inadvertently crossed a line of some sort. Felix never had those kinds of concerns, though. He laughed and joked that they were getting a bit too old for this kind of thing, that even Glenn had stopped showing his affection so openly. Sylvain never wanted to stop.
But he did. Because days later, Glenn and hundreds of others were murdered, and Felix became a different person. He rarely let Sylvain within three feet of his personal space, and much less for frivolous kisses that reminded him too much of his dead brother.
A lot of other things died around that time, like Felix’s carefree disposition and Sylvain’s days of quietly sitting in the corner trying to disappear so his brother wouldn’t pick on him. But what didn’t die was the love.
…
Their real first kiss was at the academy years later. It was tentative, both of them unsure if the other still wanted this after they had changed so much. And it was loaded with their years of banter, misunderstandings, and fights, but also years of falling, hoping, and wanting. A potent mix, for sure. But neither of them were one for backing down.
It’s uncertain which of them leaned in first (Sylvain argues it was him, Felix disagrees). For all they knew, it wasn’t either of them at all, but some powerful, unseen force called love that pulled them in like a north and south pole. They had always been inexplicably drawn together, even on their worst days when it was just to bicker. But regardless of the who and why, it was something to remember.
Sylvain openly gushes that he’d dreamed of this moment his whole life, and Felix begrudgingly admits that the thought had crossed his mind before, and the reality did not disappoint.
When the distance finally closed, heads tilted, lips slightly parted, there was nothing but sweet, sweet bliss. Not literally, or Felix would have kicked Sylvain away and gagged. Felix had the taste of something spicy clinging to his tongue, and, having great experience in the art of kissing, Sylvain ensured his breath was always fresh and minty (it wasn’t as bad as it sounds, they both claim; pure love was probably dulling their taste buds). But for all his previous kissing exploits, Sylvain was wholly unprepared for kissing his lifelong crush. And for Felix’s lack of experience, he did a surprisingly good job leading.
He simply followed his most carnal instincts. First, they told Felix to wrap an arm around Sylvain’s waist and jerk him closer, which elicited a fascinating sound from his counterpart. Next, to fist a hand in that infuriatingly bright orange hair, deepening the kiss and earning him a soft moan of approval. This was going well.
Sylvain finally remembered how to kiss back and cupped Felix’s face with his hands to get a better angle. They were large and warm against Felix’s cheeks, reminding him of cold Faerghan winters and childhood. To Felix’s surprise, it didn’t carry the bitterness of death and lost innocence.
When they parted, panting greedily for air, Sylvain laughed.
“You’re a mess,” he said, looking Felix up and down. Bright red blush all the way down to his neck, collar loose and wrinkled, and lips visibly swollen. Sylvain was the luckiest man alive.
“You’re one to talk,” Felix huffed, mussing Sylvain’s hair even more.
“So…does this mean we’re a thing?” Sylvain shot Felix one of his classic winning grins, but he couldn’t bring himself to wink.
Felix hummed, not meeting Sylvain’s eyes and staring at Sylvain’s chest instead, but he didn’t move away either. He idly twirled a curl of Sylvain’s hair with his pointer finger. Sylvain tried to ignore the way that made him feel.
“We’re whatever you want us to be,” Felix said slowly, noncommittedly. The ball was back in Sylvain’s court. Strange. He had been sure that Felix would want to call the shots. But since it was Sylvain’s play…
“Want to be my boyfriend, then?” he asked. It sounded shockingly earnest. He didn’t know he was capable of such honesty anymore. Or vulnerability. Really, Sylvain was pathetic, handing Felix his heart like this, prime for stomping. And Felix did love stomping on people. But to Sylvain’s surprise, Felix laughed. And not the bitter or sarcastic one he so often used, either. The laugh of ten-year-old Felix, full and genuine.
“I think you should take me on a date or two before calling me your boyfriend,” he snickered, eyes alight with amusement. He took Sylvain’s chin and tipped it down, peering just about where Sylvain’s eyes were. “Are you sure you can handle me?” he asked, voice low and dangerous. Sylvain gulped. He knew that he was wrapped around Felix’s little finger. Had been since they were kids. But since when did Felix know…?
“A-a date it is!” Sylvain chickened out and took a few steps back, smoothing out his uniform. “I’ve got just the thing. Just you watch, you’re gonna fall head over heels for me~”
At Sylvain’s theatrics, Felix scoffed, but it was light and airy. Fond, if Sylvain dared. Felix muttered something under his breath.
“What was that?” Sylvain cupped a hand by his ear.
“Nothing,” Felix said quickly, brushing past Sylvain and stalking off towards the training hall. “Tomorrow. After dinner. Have your date thing ready by then.”
Without waiting for a response, Felix disappeared around the corner, leaving Sylvain a bit breathless and a lot flustered.
Sylvain was very aware that he might be hallucinating, but it sounded a lot like Felix had mumbled, “I already have.”
Their date was lovely, and they officially became boyfriends soon after. What they didn’t know was that their relationship was about to become long distance.
The last moment they had together was short, a good luck kiss and a threat from Felix not to die or he would kill Sylvain himself. But after the Battle of Garreg Mach, Felix and Sylvain were sent back to their home territories as fast as humanly possible, and they narrowly missed each other’s carriages on the way out.
…
To no one’s surprise, Felix and Sylvain were all over each other as soon as they reunited five years later. Who cared about the Empire or the war or any of that nonsense? Their lover was alive and well, and that was all that mattered.
For those five long years, they only had glimpses of each other through the letters they sent, which were often delayed in the chaos of wartime. Abandoning their posts was unthinkable, and there was nothing they could do to improve communication, leaving them with one option: pray for the other’s safety. And that was saying a lot, seeing as Sylvain and Felix had less than a drop of faith combined.
But here their lover was, in the flesh. A bit different, but they had both seen each other change far more drastically before.
Sylvain all but tumbled off his horse at the sight of Felix, crushing him in an embrace that was more armor than body.
“Sylvain, you’re going to impale me,” Felix deadpanned, though he made no move to pull away or let go.
“Right, armor. Sorry,” Sylvain relented and moved back just enough to look at Felix. His Felix. Sharper cheekbones, more muscular frame, new hairstyle, and an air of elegance about him. Sylvain somehow fell harder.
Gently, Sylvain cupped Felix’s face with his hands, just like five years ago. Felix graced him with a crooked smile and soft eyes that told him Felix was just as enraptured.
“It’s good to see you,” Felix said simply.
Sylvain’s response was to bring his lips crashing onto Felix’s, delicacy once again tossed to the wind. This time, Felix didn’t seem to mind, laughing low and breathy into the kiss as he wrapped his arms around Sylvain’s neck.
Alive. They were both alive, and now they were together, and nothing was ever going to separate them again.
Sylvain pressed kisses everywhere, to Felix’s lips, cheeks, forehead, neck, any bit of skin that was accessible. Each different sensation reminded him this was real, that even if the world was a mess and everything was uncertain, this still existed. Eventually, Sylvain’s lips made their way back to Felix’s and stayed there. This was still the most addictive feeling.
The cold Faerghan winter became a cozy sphere of warmth as their body heat circulated. And the temperature kept rising as Sylvain parted his lips, giving Felix an opening to slip his tongue in.
Sylvain still had no clue how Felix learned how to kiss so well. But the mystery just made it all the more intoxicating. At this point, their mouths had a life of their own, moving as if this was the sustenance of their existence, and they had been starved for decades. Sylvain’s hand ached to pull Felix’s hair tie out, to get him red and messy and-
“Gentlemen.”
Sylvain choked on Felix’s tongue and pulled back. A strand of saliva still connected their lips, and Felix quickly broke it with a swing of his hand.
“Ingrid! Long time no see!” Sylvain laughed, turning up his charm to the max. He knew it didn’t work on her, but at the very least, it would help kill the embarrassment. Maybe. A quick glance over at Felix and Sylvain wasn’t so sure.
It seems he actually had taken Felix’s hair down in his lovestruck state, leaving a tangled mess framing bright red cheeks. Sylvain doesn’t remember doing any biting, but the exposed bit of Felix’s neck said otherwise. Felix tried to adjust his collar to cover the marks, but he just kept revealing more. He looked like he wanted to melt and become one with the snow. Sylvain felt similarly. And probably looked similarly. He does remember feeling teeth on his neck.
Ingrid simply sighed. “If you two could save the love-making for after we do something about this war, it would be much appreciated.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Sylvain muttered. Felix “tsked” in reply, but his cheeks had gotten even redder. He quickly tied his hair back up and tugged at his collar.
“Uh, anyways. Wanna ride with me?” Sylvain offered, patting his steed. Felix eyed the horse warily, then Ingrid even more so.
“Will she-”
“Felix. Over here.”
Well that answered that. Felix rolled his shoulders and sighed, heading in Ingrid’s direction.
“Felix, wait,” Sylvain caught his wrist before he got too far away. He tucked a strand of fine indigo hair behind Felix’s ear and leaned in for one last, soft kiss. He watched Felix fail to bite back a smile. “It’s good to see you too,” Sylvain said with a grin he knew looked dopey and lovesick, but at least Felix was no better.
Humourously, he took Sylvain’s hand and kissed the inside of his wrist, lips lingering far longer than necessary, eyes fluttering open to look directly into Sylvain’s. He clearly relished the way Sylvain’s eyes widened, the breathless exhale he emitted, the flush that spread across his cheeks and darkened his freckles.
“Felix!”
With a final resounding smooch, Felix released Sylvain’s hand and walked off towards Ingrid’s pegasus, leaving Sylvain absolutely gobsmacked. Five years later and Sylvain was still putty in Felix’s hands. But Sylvain wouldn’t have it any other way.
They do in fact, “do something about this war”. They win it. And if that wasn’t cause for celebratory kisses, Sylvain isn’t sure what is.
As soon as Dimitri and Byleth walked out of the palace, and Byleth gave a singular, assertive nod, Sylvain and Felix turned to each other, beaming (well, Sylvain was beaming, and Felix looked marginally happier). They didn’t even need to wait for Dimitri’s official announcement of Edelgard’s demise.
Sylvain took Felix in his arms and spun him around, laughing giddily the whole while. Felix was incredulous and sputtering at first, but he reluctantly gave in with a fond shake of his head and hesitant laughter. When he put Felix down, Sylvain was dizzy with ecstasy.
“It’s over, Felix. It’s really over,” he said breathlessly.
Felix nodded, though his eyes looked a bit distant. Disbelief. He looked down at the sword sheathed on his hip, sticky with blood and sin.
“...What do we do now?” he asked, touching it lightly.
“Isn’t it obvious, Fe? Whatever we want!” Sylvain was already envisioning days at museums and operas and a warm home somewhere between Fraldarius and Gautier territory where he and Felix could spend the rest of their lives together-
“Let’s get married.”
The words slip out naturally, and Sylvain isn’t even surprised when they do. Felix was the one thing that got him through the war. The thought of a life with him that wasn’t on the battlefield kept him fighting through the worst of injuries and the most brutal of conditions. If that wasn’t love, Sylvain wasn’t sure he ever would know what was.
“Married…?” Felix’s eyes widened slowly. He gripped his sword hilt like a lifeline and stared at Sylvain’s boots, unmoving.
Shit. Sylvain did it again. He made Felix uncomfortable. He backtracked instantly.
“Nevermind, forget I said that. You’re right, it’s way too soon,” Sylvain put his hand over Felix’s, which was going white on the hilt. “Sorry for bringing it up. We don’t have-”
Felix’s other hand came to rest on top of Sylvain’s. He squeezed it. “I’m not against getting married. I just…are you sure?”
Sylvain was confused. Felix was not opposed to marriage. That was the one thing Sylvain was unsure about. Yes, marriage was a commitment and yes, their families probably wouldn’t be thrilled. But if that wasn’t the issue, then what…?
“Felix. You’re not questioning my great and undying love for you, are you?”
That got Felix to crack a smile. “When you put it like that…”
Sylvain tipped Felix’s chin up with his free hand. Felix refused eye contact, which was normal. Sylvain just wanted to see his beautiful, stunning, hopefully about-to-be fiancé.
“Felix Hugo Fraldarius.” Felix recoiled a bit at the use of his full name, but raised an eyebrow, urging Sylvain to continue. “There is no one else in the world I’d even imagine spending the rest of my life with. I know we’ll figure out this whole post-war thing together. I promise you that no matter how much things around us change, we’ll stay the same. I don’t need anything else from you but you. So don’t worry about anything but being you, whatever it is we do next. ‘Kay?”
Felix nodded slowly, holding eye contact for a second before looking away again. That was the closest thing to a sign Sylvain was ever going to get from Felix.
“I’m going to try this again. No pressure at all, but I’m ready if you are.”
Sylvain took both of Felix’s hands in his and knelt in the snow.
“Felix,” Sylvain said his name slowly, reverently, and this time, Felix held his gaze. “Will you marry me?”
Here Sylvain was again, putting his heart in Felix’s hands. But Sylvain had long since learned to trust Felix with his heart.
Felix squeezed Sylvain’s hands and nodded, a small smile on his lips. “Yes.”
Sylvain broke into a grin that split his face in two and tackled Felix to the ground. His armor was probably crushing Felix, and Felix’s scabbard was all but stabbing Sylvain in the side, but they’d been through worse. And now the worst was over. And they were getting married.
“Sylvain, I can’t breathe, you ass,” Felix groaned, shoving Sylvain off of him.
Sylvain laughed. “Sorry, I got excited.”
Felix exhaled, annoyed, but mostly content. They lay on their sides in the snow facing each other, Sylvain smiling from ear to ear and Felix trying not to give in to the urge to do the same. He was failing. What he did give in to the urge of doing was kissing Sylvain senseless.
Felix placed a hand on Sylvain’s cheek and guided their lips together, slow, passionate, loving. They had all the time in the world now that the war was over. And Sylvain and Felix both planned to take advantage of every second.
…
The wedding was a small, intimate ordeal. Just Sylvain, Felix, and their closest friends who had become their family.
When they kissed at the altar, Sylvain insisted on making it as showy and romantic as humanly possible. He took Felix by the waist and dipped him down low, effortlessly bringing their lips together at the lowest point. Applause rang faintly in the background, but all Sylvain could hear was the beating of his and Felix’s hearts in tandem. That was the first kiss of their married life. Magical and sweet, and most definitely showy and romantic. Their last kiss wasn’t any less.
Okay, it was a bit less showy. It was in the confines of their bedroom. Sylvain’s bedroom, to be precise. They couldn’t quite do that “house in between Fraldarius and Gautier territory” thing for various reasons, so the Margrave and Duke were left to bounce between each other’s strongholds. Not that they minded too terribly. The time apart was lonely, but the surprises and pranks they could play on each other kept their older years entertaining.
On this night, Felix and Sylvain were curled up in bed, as per usual. Felix was already starting to drift off to sleep, the warmth of the fireplace and Sylvain’s body familiar and comforting.
“Hey, Fe. Stay with me for a bit longer,” Sylvain gently nudged Felix awake. Felix wasn’t quite as sensitive to these things still, but Sylvain knew in his gently aching bones.
“Mm…?” Felix stirred and peered up at Sylvain through half-lidded eyes. The firelight made his hair glow a brilliant, warm silver that made Sylvain’s heart flutter.
“Hey, love,” Sylvain stroked Felix’s cheek with one hand, the other holding his husband close to his chest.
“Hey,” Felix muttered back, voice laced with sleep, eyes bleary, but dazzling golden regardless.
“Thanks for making me the luckiest man alive,” Sylvain smiled, voice catching the tiniest bit.
Felix frowned. “Where’s this coming from?” He propped himself up on an elbow to look Sylvain in the eye.
“What, am I not allowed to appreciate my lovely husband?” Sylvain asked with mock offense, ever the jokester.
“Not out of nowhere, and cryptically at that,” Felix replied a little dourly. No, no, no, Sylvain was going about this wrong. Just words never worked with the two of them.
“Okay, here. I’ll give it to you straight,” Sylvain said with an air of mischief that had Felix raising an eyebrow.
As easy as breathing, Sylvain cupped Felix’s cheek and pulled him in. Felix quickly caught on and brought a hand to the nape of Sylvain’s neck, kissing him languidly. Sylvain had long since memorized this feeling, memorized the contours of Felix’s body, the sound of his breathing, the taste of his lips. The way he and Felix fit together. But today, Sylvain wanted to burn every single detail into his synapses.
This was longer than their usual “good night” kiss, carrying with it the weight of a lifetime together. Of memories, emotions, and all the things that went unsaid. Yes, this was the way to do it.
When they pulled apart, Sylvain was content. “Do you get it now?” he asked, running his fingers through Felix’s hair.
Felix nodded sagely. “I get it.”
Sylvain grinned. “Good.”
In their little intimate space, Sylvain could hear his and Felix’s heartbeats beating together as one. He let the sound be his lullaby as he reclined, pulling the quilts up and Felix ever closer.
“Sylvain.”
Sylvain looked down and smiled at the love of his life. “Yeah?”
“I love you.”
As always, Felix said it shyly, staring at some part of Sylvain that was not his eyes. Cute.
“I love you too, Felix,” Sylvain beamed, planting a kiss on Felix’s forehead.
Felix held Sylvain’s gaze and smiled back.
Then together, always together, they slipped into eternal slumber.